


Call Me, Call Me Any, Anytime

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019, Hand Jobs, M/M, Phone Sex Operator Stiles, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: In which Stiles is a phone sex operator, Peter is searching for his soulmate, and Erica has a telephonic ding dong ditcher.





	Call Me, Call Me Any, Anytime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladylyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylyre/gifts).



> I exist again! It's been a few months of bad health stuff and bad eye stuff that's made using screens not fun at all, but here we are! I couldn't think of a title, so here, have some Blondie lyrics.
> 
> This is my first Fandom Trumps Hate auction fic! Thank you to ladylyre for donating to the Young Center for Immigrant Children's Rights and RAINN! This is for the prompts soulmarks and phone sex operator (I couldn't get body swap in, sorry!). I hope you like it!

This...is not how Stiles thought he would be paying off his student loans, to be honest. Phone sex operator hadn't been what he'd had in mind when he'd graduated, but no one wanted to hire him without an internship, so here he is. He works for free during the day for a software developer and works for Sinful Desires at night. 

He's actually pretty good at it. He'd worried he'd suck, he isn't exactly known for being smooth or suave, but he's watched and read a _lot_ of porn, and he's able to regurgitate the good while working on coding shit for his internship. 

Erica sighs loudly next to him, hanging up the phone after a mere ten seconds. Stiles rolls back a few feet so he can look around the cubicle wall in sympathy.

"Ding dong ditcher again?" Stiles asks.

"Yes!" Erica says. "I get through 'Sinful Desires, this is Cassie' before he says 'no' and just hangs up!"

Stiles manages to smother a laugh, but only barely. The ding dong ditcher, as they've been calling him to each other, calls in a couple times a week and hangs up as soon as they say their name. Or rather, their 'stage name'. 

Stiles hasn't had to deal with him personally but he'd been shadowing Erica when he was still training and heard one of her calls with him. As soon as she'd said her greeting, he'd sighed and said, "Not you," and hung up. Erica, who is very good at her job, has been incensed ever since. 

"There is literally no one I haven't been able to crack!" Erica says, pouting. "Even the most awkward and shy ones get in the groove eventually."

Stiles can't help but cackle. It's a mark of pride for her, how good she is, and the fact that ding dong ditcher won't even stay on the line long enough for her to rope him in drives her crazy.

"Oh shut up," she says, throwing a crumpled up sticky note at his face. "Like you would do any better."

Stiles just shrugs. "Maybe he's not into women," he offers.

"He selects option three every time," Erica says. "He has to be into women, or just stupid."

Option three is for callers who don't care the gender of the person they talk to, so yeah, ding dong ditcher should be aware.

"I'm sure you'll get him next time," Stiles says. "Or, you know, have an aneurysm trying."

Erica flips him off, her frown a direct contradiction to her purr when she answers the ringing phone at her desk with, "Sinful Desires, this is Cassie." She lets out a throaty laugh even as she kicks Stiles' chair, rolling him away from her. His friends, honestly.

* * *

Peter sighs in irritation and hangs up the phone again. He knows what his mother would say, _a watched soulmark never boils_ , (she thinks she's pretty clever with that) and a lecture about how fate is cunning and will bring him his perfect match at the best time. 

Well Peter is cunning too and isn't content to wait around for fate to get its act together. The words running along with forearm, _Sinful Desires, this is Jamie_ , had confused him when he was a kid. He couldn't understand why some adults would purse their lips when they saw them, why his sister would laugh and his parents would sigh whenever the words caught their eye.

Then Peter got old enough to realize what the words implied, and he became aware that he was probably going to meet his soulmate at a sex shop. Except when he looked up Sinful Desires, there wasn't a shop under the name. He got a lot of results ranging from cheap porn to lingerie brands, but no business. He'd figured it was quite possible that it didn't exist yet, that the business name on his skin wouldn't be created for a few years.

That's...unacceptable to Peter. He sets up an alert for anything new to do with the phrase _sinful desires_ and proceeds to call every sex shop he can, asking for Jamie. Just in case. No luck, and his parents get very angry when they see the bill for all the long distance calls. (He really did call every single shop he could.)

Peter isn't one to give up, but he's quite dejected after a few years of searching. His mother sighs and tells him to trust in fate, he'll meet his soulmate soon enough. Then he gets an alert, a new phone sex line named Sinful Desires, and Peter's determination rises.

He'd rather give fate a nudge.

Peter's been calling a few times a week for almost a year now. It doesn't cost him much since he never stays on the phone for more than a few seconds, but he's sure his credit card company is laughing at him. 

Peter doesn't care. He's never been one to wait for things to happen to him; he makes them happen. And if that means calling a phone sex hotline repeatedly, well, fate probably took that into account when he was given his soulmark.

* * *

It's supposed to be his night off is all that Stiles can bitterly think as he reclines in his desk chair. Tuesdays tend to be slow so they don't exactly staff heavily, but Erica is out with the flu, Danny is on vacation, and his boss offered him time and a half to pick up a shift. So here he is on one of his few free nights instead of out with his friends or, more realistically, eating ice cream out of the tub and watching _Whose Line is it Anyway?_ reruns. 

And it's been slow. Agonizingly slow. A few of Danny's regulars call in, surprised that it's Stiles' voice that greets them. One isn't interested and hangs up (rude) but another is more than happy to have Stiles instruct him on how to jerk off. It doesn't take long at all, maybe ten minutes of telling him exactly how to touch himself, and he isn't the kind of customer that talks just because he's lonely, so after fifteen minutes of work, Stiles is bored again. 

He reads for the next hour of his shift, tuning out the purring voice of his coworker Allison and the deep rumble of Boyd behind him. There are only ten minutes left on his shift, and he's hoping he can spend them with his book, but then there's a beep on his headset, letting him know there's an incoming call. Stiles sighs, marks his spot, and leans forward to see the number on the caller ID. He snorts, recognizing the number Erica has cursed so many times. So it won't be long after all, not now that it's his turn to get the ding dong ditcher.

Stiles takes a deep breath, gets his flirty voice ready, and unmutes his headset. "Sinful Desires, this is Jamie," he says.

He expects to hear the guy hang up, but instead there's a sharp intake a breath. A second later, an exasperated voice says, "Do you have _any_ idea how long I've been waiting for you?"

Stiles' eyes widen, his hand flying down to where those words wrap around his wrist. "I - what? No, wait, _what?_ " he says, his customer voice dropping as he squawks in shock. "You - you're my...?"

"I think the word you're looking for is soulmate," ding dong ditcher says in a smooth, amused voice, and oh god, Stiles' soulmate is ding dong ditcher?! 

"Yes, that!" Stiles says. "You're - holy shit."

There's a chuckle that rumbles through Stiles and wow, okay, he needs to recalibrate a bit?

"Quite articulate," ding dong ditcher says and oh god, Stiles needs to know his name.

"Stuff it dude, I'm having my world shifted over here," Stiles says. His brain finally clicks back online and he realizes he doesn't necessarily want to discuss soulmate related things on a monitored company line. "Okay so giving your phone number to a customer is wildly against company policy, but there's gotta be a soulmate contingency in there somewhere so I'm giving it to you anyway."

"Good, I'd hate to have to stalk company records for it," he says.

"Okay, we're absolutely gonna come back to that," Stiles says. "But first, uh, what's your name? I can't keep calling you ding dong ditcher in my head."

"You're calling me what?"

"Oh yeah, buddy. You're famous. Got a nickname and theme song and all."

* * *

Peter is absolutely not nervous. He's one of the top defense attorneys in the state, he doesn't get nervous. That's what he tells himself at least while he waits in the Starbucks in downtown San Francisco, fiddling with the cup of coffee in front of him. He doesn't know what the odds are of his soulmate being in the same city as him, but it makes sense in a way. If fate destined them for each other, they're bound to run into each other eventually. 

The sound of a quick heartbeat and intoxicating scent make their way to him right before a voice asks, "Peter?"

Peter looks up, a slow smile spreading across his face. Fate really knew what it was doing when they were paired together. He's just Peter's type, with pale skin, soft brown hair, and wicked brown eyes. There's a bit of nervousness in his scent, but overall he's as excited as Peter is.

Peter stands, extending his hand. "You must be Jamie."

Jamie takes his hand but winces a bit, biting his lip. Peter frowns.

"Uh, about that..." he says slowly. "Jamie is kind of a stage name? We don't give out real names because that's a good way to get stalkers so uh, my name is actually Stiles?"

Peter stares for a moment, not letting go of _Stiles'_ hand.

"So the person's name on my arm, that I've stared at my entire life...is a fake name for phone sex," Peter says slowly.

Stiles looks like he tries his hardest not to laugh, but a snort slips out anyway. He throws a hand over his mouth, trying to keep it in, but Peter's already heard it. He sighs as Stiles laughs, collapsing into the chair across the table. The laugh lights up his face and Peter can't help smiling slightly. It also highlights the bags under his eyes, how the smell of exhaustion lingers on the edges of his scent, and he wonders if he's getting enough sleep. He doesn't bring it up though, not yet.

"My family is never going to let me live this down," Peter says, shaking his head. 

"Your soulmark contains 'Sinful Desires' but the wrong name is what's gonna get you teased?" Stiles asks. 

"They've had years to get their jokes out about that," Peter says. "And I'm sure they'll get years out of this."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but do you have any idea how many things I've been late to?" Stiles asks, thrusting out his wrist. There, in Peter's penmanship, is _Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you?_ He takes Stiles' hand delicately in his, thumb brushing over the words, smirking when Stiles' pulse jumps. Stiles swallows hard but apparently won't be stopped.

"Seriously," Stiles continues, "I don't think I have ever showed up to a class on time in my life. I'm perpetually late for everything from doctor appointments to my best friend's wedding just because I'm trying to meet you. And it turns out it wasn't even because I was late?"

"See, that just sounds like you've been using me as an excuse for your tardiness," Peter says. Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but Peter brings his hand to his mouth, pressing an open-mouth kiss to the words curling around Stiles' wrist, smug at the scent of pure want emanating from him.

"Okay," Stiles says, voice shaking a bit. "So, I promised myself I would get to know my soulmate before I jumped his bones, but I'm having a really hard time wanting to stick to that promise right now."

Peter's smirk only grows as he leans forward. "My name is Peter Hale. I'm thirty-six, a lawyer, the youngest child in my family, and I have a fine taste in clothing," he says, looking pointedly at Stiles' purple plaid. 

"Excuse you, this is my finest plaid," Stiles says, but he's grinning. "I'm Stiles Stilinski. I'm twenty-three, an intern/phone sex operator, only child, and curly fry enthusiast."

Peter's eyes narrow slightly. "As in related to Sheriff Stilinski?" he asks.

Stiles only looks confused for a half second before comprehension dawns. "Peter Hale, of the Hale Pack," he says. 

Peter doesn't know what the odds are that they're both from Beacon Hills, but at this point he doesn't really care.

"I'd say we've gotten to know each other a bit, would you?" Peter asks, thumb brushing over the words on Stiles' wrist. He suppresses a triumphant smile at the way Stiles' pulse picks up.

"Absolutely," Stiles says, pushing his chair back and standing. "I feel like I know you already, let's go."

* * *

Stiles isn't usually one to put out on the first date. Okay, he is, he definitely is and he isn't even ashamed of it. Peter's hot, all right? And he's his soulmate, so Stiles has zero problems with being tugged into Peter's bedroom.

They've both lost their shirts on the way from Peter's front door, and Stiles may have groaned in appreciation at the detailed wolf tattoo adorning the left side of Peter's chest. He doesn't exactly get a chance to study it closely because Peter's pushing him back until he falls onto the soft bedspread, bouncing slightly. Peter crawls up his body to claim his mouth in a bruising, possessive kiss. Stiles doesn't exactly have a kink for werewolves in general, but this is definitely doing it for him.

He'd love to be slow and smooth about this, but there's a frantic need that's been burning under his skin ever since Peter first touched him, and he thinks Peter feels it, too. They part just long enough to struggle out of their pants, Peter all but ripping the boxers off Stiles, then they're both finally naked, reveling in the skin to skin contact. 

"What are your thoughts on me marking you?" Peter asks, nuzzling Stiles' neck.

Stiles moans, cock jerking between his thighs. "Very positive," Stiles says. "So on board."

He can feel Peter's grin against his skin and the next moment, teeth are sinking into his throat. Stiles lets out a strangled shout, a burst of precum trickling from the tip of his cock. Peter growls, one hand tight on Stiles' hips as he grinds down, their hard cocks rubbing against each other, the other hand fumbling with something on the nightstand.

"Shit," Stiles hisses, arching up into the contact. "You are literally every teenage fantasy come to life."

Peter laughs against his skin. "If you're still making coherent sentences, I haven't done my job right," he says.

Before Stiles can answer, Peter's wrapping a slick hand around their cocks, and oh, lube is what was on the nightstand. Stiles would say presumptuous, but, well, he's here isn't he? It's rare that he's speechless, but the only noise he can make is a whine is the back of his throat as he clings to Peter's shoulders, rocking into the large hand wrapped around both of their cocks. 

"Cheating," Stiles manages to gasp out as pleasure zings through him. It's like Peter knows exactly how to touch him, exactly how to bring him to the edge quickly.

"Using a tactical advantage," Peter says, a tremor running through his voice, despite how he tries to hide it.

Well, two can play at that. Stiles throws his head back, exposing the long line of his neck to Peter's gaze, tilting just enough that the sure to be vivid mark Peter'd sucked onto his throat is visible. A low growl rumbles through Peter and _oh_ , Stiles likes that. He's going to have to reevaluate the werewolf kink thing...or maybe he just has a thing for Peter.

"You're perfect," Peter says, squeezing their cocks tighter as he jacks them off, biting kisses into Stiles' throat. Stiles knows that fate usually wouldn't put people together that aren't well-suited, but still, hearing Peter say that...

"I'm close," Stiles gasps, pleasure tingling deep in his belly. He'd be embarrassed about how quick it is but Peter seems right there with him, his cock leaking against Stiles'. He growls at Stiles' words, moving his hand faster, slick sounds and their harsh breathing filling the room, until Stiles comes with a gasp, spilling over Peter's hand.

Peter hisses out a curse, letting go of Stiles and roughly stroking himself faster, Stiles' cum coating his cock. It's only a few more moments until Peter's grunting, adding to the mess between them as he comes and fuck, Stiles is glad for the short refractory periods of young men because he's going to need to jump Peter soon.

Peter rolls to the side, keeping an arm wrapped around Stiles' shoulder and tugging him closer. Stiles goes easily, sprawling over Peter's chest as they both try to get their breathing back to normal. There's a brief moment where Stiles wonders if this might have been a mistake, if he really should have stuck to his original idea of getting to know Peter first before jumping into bed, but then Peter presses a kiss to his temple and speaks.

"I hate nachos," Peter says, like he's confessing some grand secret. A slow grin spreads over Stiles' face.

"Heathen," Stiles says. "I only like fruit that's frozen."

"And _I'm_ the heathen?" Peter says, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "I'm going to have to work on refining your palate." 

"Yeah, good luck with that," Stiles says with a snort, think of his freezer full of pizza bagels and tater tots.

"We'll see," Peter says, fingers trailing in lazy circles over Stiles' shoulder. "I haven't been to a movie theater in two years."

"We can change that, you big weirdo," Stiles teases, nudging Peter with his elbow. 

"Oh really, Mieczyslaw?" Peter says with perfect pronunciation and everything. 

Stiles' jaw drops and his head jerks up so he can make eye contact with Peter. "How do you _know_ that?" he asks, appalled. 

"I may have checked your driver's license earlier," Peter says.

"You pickpocketed me?" Stiles asks. "I didn't even feel it! You have to teach me. Like now." 

"You don't have any pockets on right now," Peter says, trailing fingers down Stiles' belly. 

Stiles swallows hard. "You make a fair point," he says, then rolls quickly until he's straddling Peter, grinning down at him. Peter's hands are tight on his waist, his expression hungry. "Sex first, thievery later."

* * *

Stiles is actually already pretty good at picking pockets, which makes Peter raise an eyebrow at him. It's not like he has much room to judge, though. Peter also supposes being the son of the sheriff has exposed to him to quite a few criminal things. 

Peter was right; his family does tease him mercilessly for having Stiles' phone sex operator handle on his arm. Then Stiles reveals Peter's nickname of ding dong ditcher and Talia actually laughs so hard she cries. Peter seriously contemplates never visiting her again.

That's nothing compared to Stiles' friend and coworker Erica. When they first meet, Erica's eyes narrow, her nostrils flaring. Peter briefly thinks it might be her smelling another werewolf on Stiles, and perhaps he's about to get her version on the shovel speech right in the middle of the restaurant, but then she slams a folder down on the table in front of him. A glance tells him it's call logs, all from his number, all to Sinful Desires. He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as Erica shreds him for destroying her perfect record of satisfied callers.He looks to Stiles for help, but he just cackles.

It's worth it though, because fate did something right when it destined him for Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


End file.
